Worth the Pain
by Silivren Tinu
Summary: When an accident strikes and leaves someone close to him seriously injured, Legolas has to face some of his worst fears. Characters: Legolas, Estel, Elladan, Elrohir. Angst, h/c, friendship.
1. Close Call

_**Author's Notes**__**: **__This story could be seen as some kind of sequel to "A Morning in Imladris" (posted as chapter 10 in "Dawn of Friendship"), but you don't need to know that story to understand this one. The worst that could happen is that you're missing some discrete references. ;-)_

_I hope you'll enjoy, and I'd love to hear how you liked it! :) Oh, and I should probably mention that Estel is about sixteen years old in this story._

**Dedication****:** This story is dedicated to Jedi Sapphire. There are countless things I love about her stories, one of which is the wonderful way she's writing Legolas – Elladan/Elrohir friendship. This story is the result of the inspiration I gained from hers. :)

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**Title: **Worth the Pain

**Author**: Silivren Tinu

**Beta**: the wonderful Imbecamiel ((hugs))

**Rating**: K+

**Summary**: When an accident strikes and leaves someone close to him seriously injured, Legolas has to face some of his worst fears. Characters: Legolas, Estel, Elladan, Elrohir.

**Disclaimer**: I'd gladly accept any elves or rangers anyone might want to give to me as a present, but unfortunately that hasn't happened yet, so… I still don't own them. (cries)

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**- Worth the Pain -**

Part One: Close Call

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_"True friends, like ivy and the wall,  
stand together and both together fall."_

Anonymous

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"It is only a simple arrow," Legolas stated, his voice quivering slightly. "No barbs, no poison, and it did not hit the bone. It should be easy to remove."

"That is… good to know," Estel muttered through clenched teeth, wondering if tearing his leg off could make the pain any worse. He had seen both his brothers and Legolas bear far worse wounds in a dignified, almost stoical way and he wished he had some idea how they had done it. All _he_ wanted to do right now was scream. The only thing that had kept him from doing so was Legolas' presence, and knowing that his screams would be as painful for the elf as his wound was for him, if not more so.

Despite the pain he was in and the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he even _thought_ of the arrow sticking out of his leg, the young man could not help noticing that the hands examining his leg were trembling more than his friend's voice had done and that the elf's face had gone chalk-white, almost as if he himself had been hit by the arrow instead of Estel.

The young man had seen Legolas badly wounded and in various states of shock, grief, and even despair before, but never had the elf appeared as shaken as he was now. Even preoccupied as he currently was, Estel could sense that something was very wrong. For a moment he wondered if there was any chance that Legolas might have been hurt, too. His memories of the time after he had been hit by the arrow were fuzzy, but he was quite sure only one arrow had been fired.

He had vague memories of falling, of strong arms catching and holding him, and of Legolas yelling angrily – not at him, but at the careless hunters, who had caused this entire situation with one stray arrow. Even though he must have blacked out for a while afterwards, Estel doubted very much that one of the hunters would have dared to approach a furious Legolas, much less try to hurt him, at least if they had not been completely out of their senses. It would be just as wise as prodding a hungry, ill-tempered warg with a stick.

Out of ingrained habit and instinct, Estel nonetheless raised his head to take a close look at the elf and search for any telltale signs of injury. He quickly found out that the movement had been a mistake, when even the slight pull on his injured muscles sent a spike of red-hot pain through his body. The young man let his head fall back on Legolas' folded cloak and bit his lip hard to keep himself from groaning, cursing, or screaming. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away angrily.

Fortunately, Legolas was still too busy examining the arrow to notice his younger friend's foolish act. Exhaling slowly, Estel tried to relax again, or at least relax as much as is possible while you have an arrow sticking out of your leg. Knowing that there was only one way to get answers now, Estel finally managed to stop grinding his teeth long enough to force out some words. "Legolas? Are you… alright?"

The elf did not move or say anything for a moment. "I am not the one who was hit by an arrow, Estel," he then said, without looking at his friend.

Less than satisfied with the answer, Estel studied his friend thoughtfully, wishing it was not so difficult to concentrate. He suddenly realized that Legolas had not once met his eyes or looked at him directly since the accident had happened. Struggling to keep focused on the elf and reaching out to his friend with a healer's instinct, the young man could sense something like an echo of his own pain emanating from the elf, and something else, something darker.

Estel had learned to trust his instincts where healing and wounds of any kind were concerned, but right now he was unable to say how much of the pain was truly Legolas' and how much of it belonged to himself. He was reasonably sure that the elf was not hurt, but pain did not always result from wounds to the body. Estel knew only too well what it felt like to see someone he cared for wounded and in pain, without being able to help.

A brief vision of Legolas being carried into the Last Homely House on a stretcher, more dead than alive, flickered through his mind and he quickly suppressed the unwelcome memory and the feelings that went along with it. Of the two of them, it had almost always been him sitting at Legolas' side and keeping him company as much as keeping watch over him after the elf had been wounded once again.

This time, their roles were reversed and Estel found his new role, painful, scary, and uncomfortable as it was, still easier to bear than the old one. He had seen Legolas make the hopeless attempt to move between him and the arrow and he knew that, had the elf been given any time at all, it would be Legolas lying on the ground with an arrow sticking out of him now. Estel would have been feeling a very different kind of pain then, and experience told him that it would have been worse than anything he was going through now. He was quite sure that Legolas felt the same way, and might be taking it even harder.

Estel was healer enough to know he would likely not be able to hold on much longer. He was cold all over, the pain was wearing him down, and enticing blackness was beginning to lap at his consciousness, promising relief from the relentless pain that seemed to be burning him from inside. A part of him wanted nothing more than to give in, to simply close his eyes and let himself fall. Another, more stubborn part, refused to give in so easily and the fact that his friend needed him, whether he was aware of it or not, lent that part the strength it needed.

"This is… not… your fault," he somehow managed to say, his gaze fixed on the elf kneeling at his side. He did not know what exactly was wrong with his friend, but he would do his best to provide comfort and make the elf see sense while he still could.

Legolas cast him a fleeting glance, and then went back to examining the arrow again. If he had not been so busy trying to stifle a groan, Estel would have sighed. Even given his current difficulties with concentrating and keeping focused, he still knew that there was nothing about the arrow or his leg the elf had not examined already. He forced himself to loosen the death grip both of his hands had on his wounded leg and move one of them enough to grab Legolas' arm instead. Startled, the elf looked up.

"Just because… you are with me… when I get hurt… does not mean it's your fault!" Estel insisted. "I should not have gone into the forest… the trap and the traces were proof… there were hunters in there. I just… didn't expect… one of them to be such a bad shot." He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I should have held you back," Legolas contradicted almost harshly. "I should have made sure it was safe. I should-" He broke off abruptly, averting his eyes. "Stop talking, Estel," he added quietly after a moment. "You need your strength for more important things right now."

Estel stared at him unbelievingly, and then shook his head. "Stupid arrow… isn't more important… than _you_!" he hissed angrily. "It was my decision… my life! Stop being so – oww, Valar, it hurts!"

The young man closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain. He cursed himself for making things even worse by showing his friend just how much pain he was in. Estel had never intended to say anything like that, but – he had also never been pierced by an arrow before, and the traitorous words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even try to stop them. He felt warm fingers grip his hand, which was still clinging to the elf's arm as if to a lifeline, and squeeze it invitingly. Understanding the offer immediately, Estel took Legolas' hand and pressed back as hard as he could, trying to ride out the wave of searing pain that threatened to swallow him, fighting with all his might to simply stay conscious.

"The pain will pass. Just don't move and do _not_ try to talk anymore," he could hear Legolas' soothing, if still slightly shaky, voice as if coming from far away. "Lord Elrond and your brothers will be here soon. The hunter and his friends promised to get them here as soon as possible. You only need to hold on a little while longer!" The last words had an almost pleading note to them.

The pounding of blood in his ears drowned out part of the elf's words, but even without really understanding what his friend was saying Estel felt his cramped muscles relax slightly. Hearing the familiar voice meant that he was safe, even if he did not feel that way right now, and the fingers that held his hand tightly were warm and firm. He knew instinctively his friend would never let go. Besides, he found himself unable to ignore the plea he heard in the elf's voice. He squeezed the fingers that held his own, in a weak attempt to reassure his friend and tell him he had heard him and was still with him.

Far too slowly, the pain abated somewhat and the beckoning darkness retreated to the fringes of his consciousness once again. Estel opened his eyes, looking directly into a familiar and very pale face hovering above him. Noticing the worry and fear the elf was unsuccessfully trying to hide, the young man somehow managed to force his lips into a smile.

"Perhaps you could give that guy… some archery lessons," he quipped, or rather, tried to. Unfortunately, what actually came out of his mouth sounded much more like a croak than the lighthearted tone of voice he had been aiming for.

For a moment, Legolas' eyes glittered in a way the young man had seen only once before, when someone had dared to threaten Estel's life in his presence. "I said… give him archery… lessons, not… use him as… target practice!" he gasped, slightly alarmed.

Legolas smiled at him in a way that was just as genuine as the young man's own smile had been before. "I don't think it would help… if you shot him in turn," the young man said, not sure he liked what he was seeing in his friend's eyes.

"Right now, I do not think I can promise anything," the elf replied calmly, an undertone of hardness in his voice.

Estel sighed. Just trying to talk or even think seemed to demand too much of an effort by now, and he decided that the careless hunter probably deserved whatever Legolas might have in mind for him. The wound in the young man's leg was throbbing in the same rhythm as his heartbeat now, but the burning pain appeared to be to be strangely removed and he seemed to be drifting even further away from it with every moment. Estel could not remember having ever felt so tired before.

His eyelids began to droop, but snapped open again when he more felt than saw Legolas tense at his side. The elf turned away from him to look back to where they had come from. Rolling his head to the side, Estel tried to see what his friend was looking at, but quickly lost interest when the only thing he was able to see were trees and more trees. After a few moments of tense listening, the elf relaxed again, turning back to look down at his young friend. "Help is coming," he said with a smile.

As if watching his friend from far away, Estel saw the relief in Legolas' face suddenly turning into fear and watched his lips move as if he was calling something frantically, but found himself unable to understand the words. The young man wanted to say something, to comfort his friend somehow, but his lips and fingers refused to move. He felt himself drifting and sinking, wondering with his last conscious thought if this was what drowning felt like. Then darkness enclosed him and he knew and felt nothing anymore.

_To be continued…_

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_I admit that this ending is likely not very reassuring. (g) The second and last part of the story is almost finished. I hope I'll be able to post it soon. :)_


	2. Siblings

_**Author's Notes**__**: **__Here's the second and final part of my story. Thank you very much for all the lovely feedback you left me for the first part, it really means a lot to me! ((huggles readers)) I hope you'll enjoy the second part, too. Reviews are always welcome and will be cherished and cuddled. ;-)_

_Carthage, thank you so much for your review! The second chapter will deal almost entirely with the topic only hinted at in "A Morning in Imladris". I found it very interesting, too, and really wanted to explore it a bit more in-depth. :)

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_**Beta**: the wonderful Imbecamiel ((hugs))

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own them. They are just borrowed and will be returned unscathed – more or less. (g)

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**- Worth the Pain -**

Part Two: Siblings

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_"A brother is not always a friend,  
but a friend is always a brother."_

Anonymous

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Two hours later, Legolas was still sitting on the ground watching over an unconscious Estel, who was lying in front of him. He had moved away from Estel's side to a spot next to his friend's feet the moment Elrond and his sons had arrived, to give them room to work, but had not changed his position again since. The young man was covered by several blankets now and finally resting peacefully. Legolas himself had a blanket around his shoulders, too, though he could not remember who had put it there or when, but he was feeling anything but peaceful.

His hands were still shaking, when he did not hold them folded in his lap or pressed against his thighs, and he felt as if something deep inside of him, something important, had been torn out violently and then stuffed back in again carelessly. There was a lingering, distant pain seeming to emanate from his soul rather than from his body, which had abated somewhat by now, but refused to leave completely.

The elf found himself unable to leave Estel's side, as if something in him feared the young man might suddenly stop breathing the instant he let him out of his sight again. His memories of the time since Estel had lost consciousness were strangely blurred. Fortunately, he was quite sure Elrond and the twins had not asked him any questions, having likely learned anything they needed to know from the hunter and his friends.

Merely thinking of the careless hunter made Legolas' hand itch to take hold of his own bow or one of his twin knives. He quickly suppressed the urge, reminding himself that the man was not even near this place anymore. At least he hoped so, for the man's sake. The elf had fully expected some rightful reproach from Lord Elrond and the twins, but as far as he remembered it had never come. In his opinion, they would have been more than justified to blame him for his failure to protect the youngest member of their family. He fiddled with the hem of the blanket around his shoulders, uncomfortably aware that he had done nothing to deserve being cared for like that.

Legolas could not forget the moment when Estel had been hit by the arrow, nor the young man's scream. The painful sound had pierced the elf as if it had been an arrow itself. It never should have happened. How could he have let it happen? He studied his friend's face in an effort to distance himself from the memories. Most lines of pain had vanished now, and he was glad about it. Estel could have simply been sleeping, without ever having been hurt at all.

The young man had woken only once since he had lost consciousness shortly before Elrond and his sons had arrived, when Elladan and Elrohir had performed the gruelling procedure of removing the arrow from their young brother's leg. Legolas had helped to hold his friend down until Elrond's healing touch and a cup of his potent tea had sent the writhing young man finally into a deep, painless sleep. That and the moment when Estel fell unconscious were the only clear memories the elf had of the last… hours?

He would gladly have exchanged them for unconsciousness, even if it meant having to drink a cup of Elrond's dreaded tea himself, or having to be hit by an arrow. There were very few moments in his long life when Legolas had ever felt that drained or shaken before. Estel moved restlessly under his blankets, immediately drawing the elf's attention. Legolas leaned forward slightly, adjusting the blankets and making sure that they covered his young friend completely.

He waited for a while, and then straightened again when it seemed clear that Estel was not going to wake and had drifted back into peaceful sleep once again. Legolas closed his eyes, wishing he could blot out the memories that plagued him as easily as his surroundings. He listened for a moment and suddenly noticed for the first time that there was almost complete silence all around him. The constant background noises, like voices, neighing, and even the soft crackling of a fire, had died away.

His curiosity roused, Legolas opened his eyes and forced himself to turn away from Estel and look over his shoulder. He saw Elrohir, Elrond, and Glorfindel carefully fastening a stretcher to the backs of Asfaloth and Elrond's own horse, both of which stood patient and unmoving. Tuilinn, Legolas' stallion, was standing nearby, watching the proceedings critically, as if offended that he had not been chosen for the task.

In any other situation, his horse's antics would have made Legolas smile. Now he barely registered anything but the stretcher and its significance. It seemed Elrond had decided to take Estel back to Imladris immediately, instead of waiting until morning. Legolas did not mind. Leaving this place as soon as possible was fine with him, and besides, it was getting cold. If even he felt it, how would the cold affect a wounded human?

Without conscious decision, his gaze returned to the sleeping young man in front of him. His eyes fixed on the spot where he knew the thickly bandaged leg to be, hidden under the blankets. He wondered if there was any danger that the arrow might have caused lasting damage. It had been embedded deeply in Estel's leg. Legolas had seen similar wounds before and he knew that an elf would not have suffered any lasting consequences from it. But Estel was no elf. He was human. Mortal. Legolas' heart ached.

As if mesmerized, he watched the slight rising and falling of the blanket over the young man's breast. Estel could have died today. He balled his hands into fists, but he could still feel them shaking slightly. It was as if something inside of him refused to stop quivering. Once again, he closed his eyes. A rustling sound, followed by a slight thud directly beside him made him jerk and blink at whatever was causing the disruption.

Legolas' hand was half-way up to his shoulder and the hilt of one of his twin knives when he recognized the familiar outline of the figure who had settled down beside him. His hand dropped into his lap. Elladan folded his legs comfortably beneath him, seemingly unaware that he had come close to being stabbed by one of his best friends. Legolas stared at him, wondering when the half-elf had gotten here and how long he had already been standing beside him.

"Have you been here the entire time?" he asked, not quite sure if he really wanted to know.

"More or less," Elladan answered, studying his friend thoughtfully. "Elrohir and I agreed it would be a good idea if one of us kept an eye on you."

Both the close scrutiny and the concern in the older elf's words made Legolas feel rather uncomfortable. "We are going to leave soon?" he asked, both because he wanted to know and in a feeble attempt to divert Elladan's attention from himself.

Elladan nodded. "Father believes it is no risk, or at least a lesser one than letting Estel spend the night out here on the cold, hard ground."

"I have worried about that, too," Legolas commented, wishing Elladan would stop watching him the way he did.

For several moments, there was a tense silence between them. "It was not your fault," Elladan then said, his voice both gentle and firm.

Legolas turned away from him, refusing to meet his gaze. "How serious is the wound?" he wanted to know, ignoring Elladan's words. "Will Estel be alright?"

Elladan sighed, but answered the question nonetheless, perhaps sensing the underlying fear in the younger elf's words. "Father thinks so, and I have no reason to believe otherwise," he reassured his friend. "Estel's condition is stable now. He will be confined to bed for some time and will likely need crutches for a while afterwards, but he will make a full recovery. In fact, thanks to Ada's healing abilities and his own Dunédain blood, he will heal much faster than any other human could."

"Though," he added after a moment's thought, "it likely won't seem fast enough for him." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Legolas simply nodded, his gaze fixed on his human friend once again. He could feel Elladan's eyes boring into him.

"Legolas, it was not your fault," Elladan repeated insistantly.

Legolas' features hardened imperceptibly. "You were not there," he countered. "You cannot know. Perhaps that is only what you want to believe."

"You forget, the hunter told us what happened," Elladan replied patiently. "It was an accident, nothing more."

There was no answer.

"Did Estel blame you?" Elladan suddenly wanted to know.

"No," Legolas finally admitted reluctantly, the eyes resting on the young human's face softening slightly. "No, he did not."

"Well, he _was_ there, wasn't he?"

"What about the hunter?" Legolas asked evasively.

"The hunter?"

"The hunter who shot Estel," Legolas said slowly, emphasizing each word. For a moment, he met Elladan's gaze, allowing the older elf to see the cold, barely controlled anger he still felt whenever he thought of the man. The slight confusion in Elladan's face quickly changed into understanding and his own features hardened imperceptibly.

"I told him to never hunt near our home again," he replied, a hint of the same cold anger Legolas was feeling in his own mostly expressionless face. "In fact, I made it quite clear to him that I would prefer him to stay away from Imladris whether he was hunting or not. I do not think we will ever see him again."

A look of perfect understanding passed between the two of them, and then Legolas nodded. For a while, there was silence again while Elladan eyed Legolas and the archer did his best to avoid his gaze. Finally, Elladan sighed again and Legolas had to stop himself from flinching when he felt a hand gripping his shoulder. "Legolas, talk to me! Please. You need to let it go."

Legolas could not stop the slight shudder running through his body, and he knew his friend would not miss it. He bowed his head, hiding whatever emotion Elladan might have seen on his face. "You do not understand," he breathed.

"Don't I?" Elladan replied, his grip on his younger friend's shoulder tightening. "Even if I did not, you could at least try me. But the way things are, I believe it is you who does not understand." His voice was very gentle when he added, "I know you've never had a little brother before, Legolas. But I have." He gave the shoulder he was still holding a soft squeeze.

For a moment, the words confused the younger elf, but then understanding dawned. He looked at Elladan, suddenly not caring anymore what the older elf might or might not be able to read in his face and eyes. Choked by emotions, he shook his head, unable to speak.

"I understand," the half-elf assured his friend quietly. "It took some getting used to for us, too. Fortunately, or unfortunately, however you want to see it, Elrohir and I already had the opportunity to get some practice before Estel came along. Otherwise we would likely be complete emotional wrecks by now."

"In fact," he added with a hint of humour, "I already had some practice in dealing with a younger brother before you came along, though Elrohir insists he doesn't count, since he's only a few minutes younger than I am."

The words elicited a faint smile from Legolas, but it did not last longer than a fleeting moment. "Is it always that… difficult?" the younger elf asked, not even trying to mask the pain he still felt.

"Yes, always," Elladan said, and there was a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "It will not even change much once he is grown up. The fear will always be the same, but you will learn to deal with it eventually." He smiled at Legolas sympathetically. "You should have tried a little sister first. It tends to be a bit easier with them. At least they're usually not in mortal danger _all_ of the time."

Legolas felt a strange mixture of warmth, guilt, and dread well up inside of him in response to his friend's words. "I do not know how you managed to stay sane," he stated.

"It was not always easy," Elladan admitted, "especially when you managed to get yourself captured by orcs, pincushioned with arrows, poisoned, or the one time you fell out of that tree-"

"I get the picture, Elladan!" Legolas interrupted, feeling sheepish, touched, and slightly exasperated all at once.

"… but, however difficult it was, it was more than worth it," the older elf finished, unfazed.

Legolas could feel his muscles relax slightly for the first time since the arrow had taken flight. He sighed and smiled at Elladan in a way that was both grateful and rueful. "I never said thank you," he said softly.

Elladan snorted. "You thanked us each time we managed to save your hide, and even those times we were not able to do so," he contradicted. "It was never necessary."

"What I wanted to say is… I'm sorry."

The half-elf smiled at him warmly, giving the shoulder under his fingers another squeeze. "I'm not, and I won't ever be." He eyed his younger friend for a moment, and then he added, "Did you ever blame us when we were unable to protect you, even though we tried?"

"No," Legolas said, without a moment's thought. "Never. It was never your fault."

"Would you have wanted us to blame ourselves?"

Legolas hesitated, beginning to sense a trap. "You did blame yourselves, whatever I wanted or did not want you to do," he pointed out.

"He has a point there, you know," a new voice joined in their conversation. Elrohir dropped down on Legolas' other side unceremoniously, smiling at him and ignoring his brother's scowl.

"Alright," Elladan admitted grudgingly, "we did, but that is not the point. How did it make you feel?"

Legolas sighed. "Bad," he answered, casting an almost guilty look at the sleeping human in front of them. "It made me feel bad."

"Do you really want Estel to feel like that?"

Legolas did not answer, grateful that Elladan stayed silent, too. Looking at Estel again, the wood-elf knew there could only be one possible answer to his friend's question. The last thing he wanted was to make Estel feel worse than he already did just because he himself was not able to let go of his guilt and self-blame. He studied the pale face of the unconscious human for a long moment. Estel seemed fragile to his eyes, more fragile than he had ever seen him before. Something inside of him constricted painfully.

"How can you live with it?" he suddenly asked, without looking at his friends. "How can you live with knowing… knowing that he is… mortal?"

His eyes and attention still fixed on Estel, Legolas did not notice the knowing look passing between his two friends. The twins communicated silently for a moment, their eyes showing worry, but no surprise. After an imperceptible nod from Elladan, Elrohir took a deep breath and turned to face their friend. His eyes were grave, when he gently said, "We have lived with and among mortals for a long time, and we are partly mortal ourselves. Accepting Estel's mortality is easier for us than it will ever be for you."

Legolas looked at him, surprise showing in his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said. "I tend to forget…" He trailed off.

"… that we may yet end up being mortals ourselves?" Elrohir finished the sentence for him. Legolas paled, and the half-elf immediately rued his words.

"Yes," the elf whispered.

"It is likely it will never come to that," Elrohir hastened to remind his friend, and Legolas nodded, though he seemed far from comforted.

"He could have… he could have _died_ today!" Legolas said, his pained gaze fixing on the half-elf's face.

"I know," Elrohir answered quietly. "But then his death would not have had anything to do with his being mortal. Such a death could be the fate of any of us."

Legolas shook his head slowly. "It would not be the same," he said softly. "The Valar know I have seen death many times, but I always knew I would see those I lost again one day, because they were elves. When Estel departs this world, he may be gone forever, for all I know."

Elrohir closed his eyes for a moment, then he said, "You always knew the danger his mortality could pose to you one day, but I think you've never come so close to really _feeling_ it. We feared that you would have to face this pain sooner or later, when we noticed years ago how strong the bond between you and Estel had become." He paused, eying the younger elf's face intently.

"Does it make you rue having befriended him?" he finally asked.

Legolas took a moment to think about the question. Something inside of him was still aching, though the conversation with Elladan had made him feel a bit better. It had helped to at least be able to understand what was wrong with him. His friends had both been right – he had never known how it would feel to lose a younger brother, and he had never truly been faced with Estel's mortality until today. Still, there was no doubt what his answer would be.

"No," he said, looking into Elrohir's eyes. "Never." His gaze wandered back to the young human who had come to mean so much to him. Suddenly, he felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. The pain was not gone, but somehow it seemed to be more bearable.

"I wish I had an answer for you," Elrohir added, misinterpreting the pensive look on Legolas' face. "I fear the only way to live with knowing that he is mortal is to remind yourself why you chose to befriend him in the first place."

"It is all the answer I need," Legolas replied simply, smiling softly at his friend. After a moment, the smile turned impish. "What about you?" he suddenly wanted to know. Both Elladan and Elrohir cast him confused glances.

"Well," the wood-elf began to explain, "as I see it you are in the same situation I am. If you choose a mortal fate and I die, you'll probably never see me again, too. So, what made you decide to befriend me?"

"I really don't know," Elladan answered with a deadpan face. "It must have been some kind of strange fit of insanity. We've rued it ever since." His words earned him a glare and a none-too-gentle shove from Legolas, but he only grinned.

"What he means to say," Elrohir translated, scowling mildly at his brother, "is that we knew it was worth the risk."

Estel shifted slightly and moaned in his sleep, effectively bringing the conversation to a halt. Elrohir leaned over him, putting a gentle hand on his younger brother's brow, and the young man stilled immediately with a sigh. Watching anxiously, Legolas breathed a relieved sigh of his own. Feeling bone-weary all of a sudden, he found himself longing to be back in Imladris again. He would have given almost anything right then to be able to fall into his cosy bed and forget all about mortality, death, and arrows for a while.

While he would not be able to truly and entirely relax until Estel was conscious again and he was able to talk to him and see with his own eyes that his friend was going to be well, he was quite sure he would be able to at least find some rest now, knowing from experience how safe and well-cared-for the young man would be when left in the hands of the twins and his foster father. Looking once again at the sleeping figure on the ground, the elf had to suppress a yawn.

He felt hands rearrange the blanket around his shoulders, and found himself looking into the face of Elrohir, who smiled at him sympathetically.

"I think it is time to go home," the older elf said.

For once, Legolas saw no reason to disagree.

o-o-o-o-o

_Several hours later…_

All was quiet in the healing rooms of the Last Homely House and only a single candle was burning on a bedside table in one of the rooms, casting it into a gentle play of light and shadows. The warm glow of the single flame illuminated the pages of the book Elrohir had been reading until the moon had risen over the dark silhouette of the Misty Mountains in the east, its silvery light distracting the half-elf from battles fought a long time ago and inviting him to simply admire the eternal beauty of the night sky for a while. He would not have been able to say how long he had been sitting there, lost in his own thoughts and the twinkling lights high above, when a slight movement at his side drew his attention.

Looking down at the bed in front of him, he noticed that the eyes of the young man, who had been lying motionless since he had taken the bedside watch from Elrond some time in the middle of the night, were blinking open. Straightening, Elrohir turned his open book around and put it down on the armrest. Leaning forward slightly, the half-elf took one of the young man's hands in his own, watching him closely. "Estel?" he asked quietly, expectantly.

Stormy-grey eyes fixed on his own, the confusion in them abating slowly. Elrohir smiled at his younger brother, squeezing his hand and smiling even more broadly when Estel's fingers curled weakly around his, returning the pressure. "Welcome back, little brother."

Instead of an answering smile, there was suddenly a frown on Estel's face. "Legolas?" he whispered. "Where is he? Is he well?"

Not having expected such an inquiry, Elrohir did not reply immediately. He had hoped that Estel had been too distracted to notice that something was not right with his friend. After all these years, he should have known better. "Legolas is unhurt," he finally answered, in an attempt to stay as close to the truth as possible without telling the whole of it. "It was not he who was hit by an arrow after all."

"Maybe not," Estel agreed, "but something was wrong with him nonetheless." The young man's voice was weak, but his grey eyes were holding Elrohir's gaze with an intensity that reminded him uncannily of the way his father used to look at Elladan and him whenever he knew his sons were up to no good.

Realizing that Estel would not give in nor go back to sleep until he had an answer, Elrohir decided that capitulation was the best choice. Turning slightly in his armchair, he nodded at the bed right behind him. "Legolas is right here," he said. "You can see for yourself."

Actually, all that could be seen on the neighbouring bed was a vaguely elf-shaped outline, since its occupant had burrowed so deeply into his blanket that he was almost completely hidden beneath it. Only some golden strands of hair and the tip of a pointed ear were peeking out at the top. It seemed to be enough for Estel. The young man relaxed visibly as soon as he caught sight of his friend and the determination in his features quickly drained away, changing into fatigue.

Elrohir shook his head. As endearing as they were, those two fools were also enough to drive any reasonable elf to the brink of insanity. Elladan had escorted Legolas to his own room as soon as they had reached Imladris, and had stayed there until he was sure that the wood-elf had fallen asleep. Only half an hour later, Legolas had shown up in the healing rooms, looking bleary-eyed but very much awake. Elrohir had not been too surprised.

Knowing from experience that it would be impossible to turn the younger elf away, or hope that he would be able to find any rest in his own rooms, Elrohir had simply led him to the bed next to Estel's instead. After the half-elf had assured his younger friend three times in his most convincing voice – the one usually reserved for negotiating with dwarves and particularly unreasonable humans, which he had discovered was also quite useful when dealing with descendents of Oropher – that Estel would be perfectly alright, Legolas had finally crawled into bed and had not even so much as stirred ever since.

Looking from the young human in front of him to the young elf behind him and back again, Elrohir sighed. The best thing about this was probably that it was quite easy to keep an eye on both of them at once now, without having to worry that one of them was moving – or _trying_ to move – around in the corridors somewhere.

Estel's eyelids were drooping now, and Elrohir leaned forward again to pull the blanket up to the young man's chin. Estel mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "hannon le", before his eyelids drifted shut completely and he fell back into a deep, and hopefully healing, sleep. Elrohir waited for some moments, but when the young man did not stir again he rose, manoeuvring his armchair into a position where he would be able to easily watch both of his charges at once.

Settling down comfortably once again, he grabbed his book, stretched out his long legs, and prepared to wait until either Elladan came to relieve him of his watch, or one of the two sleepers decided to wake up again. Having younger siblings was definitely a lot of trouble, but never more than it was worth.

- The End -


End file.
